


Without bitterness

by VagueSadness



Category: VICTON (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Ambiguous/Open Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-13 02:14:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29519319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VagueSadness/pseuds/VagueSadness
Summary: Seungsik doesn’t like coffee and even hates its smell. Subin’s arms smell like coffee really much. Oh, and someone stole Byungchan’s girlfriend here.
Relationships: Jung Subin/Kang Seungsik
Comments: 10
Kudos: 20





	Without bitterness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HChnD](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HChnD/gifts).



> I love Victon, I love coffee, and I love Arthur! Happy Birthday~ hope this work makes you smiling! You also can find here some memes known between only us two :D
> 
> I tried to make this story not banal or boring; also the plot is from my life in some sense, I really miss that time I visited my friend from the coffee shop nearby my uni almost every day. Now this coffee shop doesn’t exist there, rip <3  
> If you’re interested in background music, here you have some [jazz](https://youtu.be/q1HT3piV9eo) and a compilation of [joji’s](https://youtu.be/EKLQOI7CXYI) beautiful songs I listened to while writing this.
> 
> Thanks to [heecheondo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HChnD) for being beta, again! Read his works, they’re great!
> 
> English (still) isn’t my native language, so I’m sorry for any mistakes you can meet.  
> Have fun.

Seungsik’s day was bad right from the start.

This morning Seungsik overslept because the alarm didn’t work for some reason; at the first — already missed — lesson he had that test he diligently prepared all night for and because of which he lay down to take a nap only for just a couple of hours. During the lunch break he turned over his tray of food when he accidentally bumped into another student — and Seungsik had no time to order another one. After the lessons he had extra classes where he shamelessly nodded off which resulted on a disapproving gaze from the teacher and a low score for activity during the practice (to be honest, he managed to fall asleep right on the table, but good-hearted Hanse kicked him in a friendly way). And to top it all off, it started to rain late in the afternoon, and, _of course_ , Seungsik had not taken his umbrella — he was getting ready in a hurry, and the weather was the last thing on his mind.

Late evening he stays at the bus stop hiding under the narrow roof from the heavy rain and thinks that he’s _very_ tired. More than anything, he wants to appear in his dorm, eat for the first time in a long day, and go to bed. Maybe even to skip the first lesson tomorrow (he knows he won’t).

The water trickles off his hair, clothing clings to the skin; Seungsik froze to death, and his bus still didn’t appear at all — and wasn’t even going to, judging by the past forty-odd minutes. With this legendary level of luck Seungsik should expect to wake up tomorrow with a heavy head and a sore throat.

He thoughtlessly watches the flow of people who are clearly more favored by Fortune today: some get off at the bus stop, others get into cars; someone buys coffee in the coffee-kiosk nearby and drinks it with pleasure, waiting for transport standing next to the soaked and trembling with evening cold student. This makes him frown. Seungsik doesn’t like coffee. He doesn’t hate it, but even just the smell repels him, and although Seungwoo who’s deeply in love with caffeine has repeatedly tried to instill in his best friend the love of “the drink of gods”, it didn’t work out.

Seungsik winces at the cloying smell, sighs with relief when the man with coffee gets on the bus, and looks longingly at the time displayed on the screen — the old phone lives out its last percent of charge, but because of the temperature difference it flashes goodbye and turns off. Now, among other things, Seungsik has no music. How charming.

The kiosks located around the bus stop start to close. Seungsik quietly rejoices at the coffee shop pausing its work too: the young barista dims the light and fills his protocols. Though, there’s no one to buy coffee: there are fewer and fewer people on the street. Seungsik thinks to drop everything and order a taxi, but public transport is like a drug: you know the damn tram or bus will not come, but you keep waiting like a fool.

He hears someone calling softly but clearly to a certain “guy at the bus stop”; he notices nobody nearby and concludes that it was not to him. The voice trails off; Seungsik shudders once again at the frosty wind and looks wistfully into the distance where a faceless bus lazily moves forward. It’s impossible to read the number from here.

A sharp push on his shoulder snaps him out of his trance; Seungsik turns in surprise and sees the young man from the coffee shop. He has an extremely unfriendly gaze for such a beautiful and even cute face.

“Are you deaf, or what?” the guy asks gruffly; his voice sounds low and confident. “Here, it’s yours,” he puts a hot paper cup in Seungsik’s frozen hands and, getting his backpack on, immediately runs towards the crosswalk with flashing green light. Filled with amazement, Seungsik keeps watching the dark figure hiding in the subway building and only then remembers about the cup. His fingers finally get warm, and he can’t get enough of this tiny source of heat, but after a moment he catches the familiar smell and purses his lips in frustration.

Coffee.

Seungsik stares at the drink in confusion. It’s a pity to throw it away, but his stomach twists uncomfortably just at the thought of drinking it. Then again, he’s terribly cold and tired, he hadn’t eaten all day, and he’s about to fall asleep right here at the bus stop.

Seungsik carefully raises the cup to his lips and takes a small sip. He feels the airy foam of oat milk followed by a strict, bitter espresso, softened by something sweet. Seungsik tries not to pay attention to the flavor and concentrates on whipped milk and tender taste. He really feels better; he can’t stop thinking about the strange boy who has treated a stranger for some reason, but his tangled and messy thoughts are interrupted by the arriving bus — before midnight, what a surprise. Seungsik curses under his breath, climbing inside and carefully holding the cup to not spill the drink. He finishes it by the time he gets to the dorm; there’s a light on in the window of his and Byungchan’s room, which is strange: usually his roommate is already asleep, having to get up bright and early.

“What’s the matter?” Seungsik asks, standing in the doorway and looking worriedly at his friend, hunched over on his bed. The floor is littered with photos that were once pasted all over the wall — pictures of Byungchan and his girlfriend together. Seungsik gently passes them and sits next to his friend. "Did you quarrel?"

Byungchan shakes his head stormily, unable to utter a word; he weeps bitterly and buries his face in the rain-soaked jacket of his newly returned roommate, who tenderly cuddles him and pats his head.

“It’s okay, it’ll go away,” Seungsik tries to cheer him, feeling his friend shaking with sobs. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“That guy,” Byungchan answers quietly. “From the coffee shop. She used to tell me about him, how witty and courteous he is, and how he always compliments her,” Byungchan sniffs, wiping away his tears. “I asked her not to communicate with him, she assured me that everything is fine, that I should trust her... and in the end, she left me! For him!” Byungchan punches the mattress. Being puzzled, Seungsik bites his lip.

“From the coffee shop?” he clarifies. Byungchan nods dejectedly.

“The one near the bus stop. By the way,” he raises his eyes at his roommate, “do you smell like coffee? I thought you hate it.”

“Long story,” Seungsik sighs, getting up from the bed and finally taking off his wet outer clothes. “Do you have anything to eat? I haven’t eaten since this morning. And you can tell me exactly what happened.”

Byungchan finds a box of instant noodles for his friend; Seungsik listens intently to Byungchan’s emotional narration, devouring his modest late dinner with appetite. It takes at least two hours before he manages to calm Byungchan down, help him to get rid of photos and put him to bed; Seungsik is surprised that he’s still awake but he guesses the deal is in the magic power of the caffeine.

Nevertheless, he falls asleep as soon as his head touches the pillow.

Early in the morning, Seungwoo sleepily watches Seungsik placing the next seat, unceremoniously confiscating the paper cup on the table and taking a long sip.

“Wow.” That’s all Seungwoo can say in this situation, but after a second he chuckles at Seungsik grimacing, coughing and pushing the cup away.

“It’s not coffee,” Seungsik says firmly and looks at his friend searchingly.

“Well, actually, it contains coffee,” Seungwoo disagrees.

“What is this?”

“Coffee. With whiskey.”

Seungsik groans helplessly, accompanied by Seungwoo’s cheery laughter and, apparently giving up, puts his notes and textbooks on the table.

After lessons, before the extra classes he slowly approaches the coffee kiosk, overcome by terrible embarrassment and colossal uncertainty. Fortunately, there are no people nearby; the barista watches something on his phone, but as soon as Seungsik comes closer he notices him and takes his earphones off. He looks as sullen as he was yesterday’s evening; his eyes are so indifferent, and for a second Seungsik wonders if it was all just a dream from exhaustion, but he immediately remembers Byungchan’s story and photos torn from their walls. So, has Byungchan’s girlfriend left him for this young man?

The frozen silence fills the air; the barista raises his eyebrow inquiringly. Seungsik quietly clears his throat and glances away for a moment to gather his thoughts.

“Hi. I,” a hesitant pause, “want to thank you. It was quite,” he hesitates trying to find the right word, “nice of you.” He smiles awkwardly; the young man’s face still has no expression as well as before, and Seungsik’s heart beats anxiously, but he continues. “I suppose I should pay for the drink? How much do I owe you?”

There is the ringing speechlessness in response, broken only by the noise of cars passing on the street; the guy is not even blinking, and it seems Seungsik turns cold inside from this gaze.

“You owe me nothing,” he finally says waving his arm casually, though there’s still no hint of a smile on his face. “No worries, it won’t be taken out of my paycheck.”

“Well,” Seungsik mumbles, “then, um, thank you?”

“You already have thanked me, I heard you the first time,” the guy says gloomily and gives a short chuckle, seeing the interlocutor’s confusion. “You’re welcome,” he adds more amiable and nods toward the bus stop. “I don’t know what happened, but it’s beastly not to come in for an hour.”

“Yeah,” Seungsik allows himself to smile. “And, by the way... For the future, do not take it as a reproach... I mean, be careful: you could meet a person who doesn’t like coffee. It would be sad to throw away the drink in this case.”

The young man frowns — Seungsik prepares to apologize for being rude, but soon realizes that the barista is disgruntled because of his own mistake.

“You’re right,” the guy bites his lower lip, “I didn’t think of that.” He lightly touches the tip of his nose trying to hide his embarrassment. “I was just in a hurry.” This sounds like the most stupid excuse, but Seungsik graciously ignores it.

“It’s all right. Tea would be a more universal option,” he suggests.

“And what kind of tea do you prefer?” the barista suddenly asks.

“Um,” Seungsik is confused again, “well, I personally like black tea.”

The young man nods resolutely, rising from his seat and walking away into the small workroom; Seungsik hears the rustle of the package being opened.

“Are you allergic to citrus or buckthorn?” the barista appears behind the window again; filled with curiosity, Seungsik shakes his head. The guy skillfully picks up the dark bottle of toppings; the coffee machine buzzes pouring boiling water. A minute later, a cup of fragrant hot tea appears in front of Seungsik. “As an apology,” the barista explains. “You don’t have to pay for that, either.”

“This is the second time you treat me,” he says shyly, but accepts the drink and takes a sip. The tea has a mild sweetness mixed with sourness, which together with the pleasant smell lightens the mood. “Very tasty, thank you.”

The guy nods shortly again and looks over Seungsik’s shoulder — Seungsik hurries to turn around: a young man with incredibly beautiful features and a too bright for this cloudy autumn weather hairstyle boldly approaches them with resolute steps. Seungsik moves a bit aside; the newcomer smiles broadly extending his hand to the barista.

“Hi, Subin-iee,” he says cheerfully, and the barista takes and presses his hand willingly.

“I didn’t expect to see you today, Sejun-hyung. As usual?”

«Sejun-hyung» hums in agreement, paying for the order and leaning against the kiosk wall in a businesslike way — it seems he’s not so much relaxed as posing, allowing passers-by to admire the elegant shape of his thighs. However, there definitely is something to pay attention to.

“And make it as strong as you can,” Sejun adds over the noise of the coffee grinder. “The weather is awful: damp, wet, dank,” he shrugs. “I just wanna go back to bed and not wake up until summer. I don’t know how you can work in this weather.”

“On the contrary, nobody around, no one bothers me,” the hiss of the cappuccinatore follows the barista’s voice.

“No one?” smirks Sejun, suddenly turning to Seungsik. “I haven’t seen you here before. Are you Subin’s new friend? How could that happen?”

“Um,” Seungsik stammers, “excuse me?”

“Sejun-hyung,” the barista places the cup with a loud bang. “Your coffee.”

“Thanks, kid,” Sejun gladly takes his drink and tastes it, turning back to Seungsik. "So? I’m pretty sure it’s a _very_ interesting story.”

“Hyung,” Subin interrupts, “if you didn’t understand: go away.”

Seungsik stares at them in amazement; Sejun laughs loudly, not offended at all, obviously.

“I love you too,” he blows a kiss to Subin. “Well, I won’t bother you two, good luck,” he gives Seungsik a sly wink and walks away towards the crossroad. Seungsik sips his tea thoughtfully, turning his attention to the audibly exhaling barista.

“Subin, right?” he smiles. “My name is Seungsik. Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” the guy nods. “I’m sorry about Sejun. He’s often like this, but he’s cool. We both work in shifts here, so you can feel free to buy tea from him, too.”

“Maybe, it was him,” Seungsik says it accidentally aloud; Subin arches an eyebrow questioningly, and Seungsik hastens to add. “No, nevermind. I’m afraid I have to go, too: I have classes soon.”

“Good luck,” Subin answers calmly. “Come over sometime if you want to.”

“Sure,” Seungsik waves goodbye, sighs in relief, and goes back to the university.

He finds it extremely rude to stand at the bus stop right next to the coffee shop and not even greet Subin again, so late in the evening, after his extra classes, Seungsik drops by to have a few words with him. Subin is an interesting boy: he doesn’t go to a university and have started to work right after school graduation; he has three older sisters who always are ready to help and support him, but the young man wanted to show his independence and save up for college on his own. Subin is attentive and responsive: he remembers the number of the bus Seungsik rides on and calls him out when the transport shows up, so that the student doesn’t miss it.

The room Seungsik shares with Byungchan is filled by despondent; his roommate is still upset about the breakup, and Seungsik prefers not to bother him, especially considering that fact he seems to make friends with the person Byungchan promised to strangle at the first opportunity. Subin is witty, resourceful, and very genteel when he needs to be; he is a quite well-mannered boy, and Seungsik can even understand Byungchan’s ex-girlfriend in some ways — but he doesn’t excuse her at all and stays entirely on his friend’s side. Seungsik feels like a hypocrite when he patiently listens to Byungchan’s emotional outpourings and tries to cheer him up; he determinedly intends to never again talk with Subin, since things have turned out this way, «make new friends but keep the old» and all — but the day after Subin makes another delicious tea for him, this time with cinnamon and ginger, and Seungsik helplessly gives up. At last, he and Subin aren’t _Friends_ , just acquaintances. All good acquaintances make free tea for each other, right?

And share their food. Feeling obligated, Seungsik decides to buy something as a gift for Subin, cookies or chocolate, in fact, he has no idea what the boy likes. He puts it into the barista’s hands with embarrassment, muttering something about propriety; Subin seems surprised, but then a soft smile blossoms on his lips, and Seungsik finds it pretty charming.

Subin immediately opens the package and puts a piece of chocolate chip cookies in his mouth. “It’s delicious,” he says. “Do you want to try it?”

“Thank you, I’m not hungry,” Seungsik politely refuses, but as luck would have it, in the silence hanging over the avenue — all the cars have fallen asleep at the intersection — his stomach rumbles loudly. Subin raises his eyebrow; Seungsik looks down in shame.

“You’re not much of a liar, you know. When was the last time you had a meal?”

“In the morning,” admits he, but hurries to add. “It’s okay, I’m used to it. I often can’t have lunch because of my intense schedule.”

“You don’t have time for lunch, but you do have time to stand out here and talk with me?” Subin’s voice is full of that disapproval you can hear from a strict mother; he reaches down for his backpack, pulls out a container of food, and hands it to stunned Seungsik. “You can bring me the box later. Washed, preferably.”

“Is that what you think of me?” the older grumbles, examining the cute rabbit depicted on the top of the container. Does Subin like it?..

“Only the best,” Subin grins. “And the container was given to me by my sisters. I would never in my life choose something like this.”

“Yeah, I thought so,” teases him Seungsik; Subin rolls his eyes and pointedly shuts the window.

Whoever made this meal, Subin or one of his family, it’s very good; Seungsik eats it with appetite in the hallway just before the extra class start, and when Hanse looks in amazement at the rabbit painted on the container, he only answers, “long story.” The next day, Sejun works at the coffee shop; Seungsik hesitates for a time whether to ask him to give the box back or to bring it in person later, when Sejun notices him and waves his hand in greeting, remembering him, obviously. He friendly offers to make any drink — Seungsik agrees for tea. Sejun makes it easier than Subin usually does, although the tea is still delicious; Seungsik finally decides to ask him to hand over the container and hastily justifies himself after the curious exclamation, “he gave it to me when I told I have missed my lunch.”

“Interesting,” Sejun says significantly, accepting the box. “Subin doesn’t even want to share his shifts with me, let alone the food.”

“Can I ask you something, um, strange?” Seungsik cautiously lowers his voice; Sejun straightens up, showing his full readiness to listen. “I don’t mean to pry... Uh, this may sound weird, but it really matters to me… Anyway, do you happen to know if Subin has a girlfriend?”

Sejun blinks slowly, processing what he just heard, giving an examining glance to the guy in front of him. “What did you say your name was?”

“Seungsik,” he answers, confused. “Does it matter?” he does look puzzled. Sejun takes out stickers from the drawer and a marker from his bag and painstakingly writes.

“«To Subin, from Siki, with love»,” he reads aloud with a grin, showing the note to paled Seungsik and confidently placing it on the container. “Don’t worry, everything will be delivered safely. You’ll thank me, be sure.”

Despite all the persuasions and threats, Sejun refuses to take the sticker off and throw it away, so Seungsik decides to never appear in front of Subin ever again in his life. Unfortunately, it’s not that easy because nobody is going to move the bus stop to the other side of the street in the near future. Seungsik desperately hopes that there will be a crowd of students at the coffee shop and he will have time to leave before Subin notices him, but the space near the stop is completely empty, as if the whole world has intended to make fun of the poor student together with Sejun. With a gesture Subin beckons Seungsik to come over, and the last one obediently approaches like a guilty dog.

“You know this was a bad idea, right?” Subin says at once, and Seungsik purses his lips ready to hear a lot of accusations and reproaches, his heart in his throat. “Next time, you’d better give everything into my hands instead of trying to deliver anything through Sejun.”

“What?” Seungsik manages to say.

“I can recognize his crooked handwriting anywhere,” Subin snorts dismissively, showing the shameful note, crumpling it indifferently and throwing into the trash. “It was a very reckless decision.”

“Yeah, right,” Seungsik exhales heavily, not fully believing that nothing happened. Subin chuckles and leans his chin in his hand.

“Now tell me, why the hell did you try to find out if I have a girlfriend?”

Once again during this day Seungsik feels like he has a heart attack; he coughs, afraid to look at Subin watching him calmly.

“It’s not what you think,” he groans. “It’s because of my friend. His girlfriend recently left him, for a guy from a coffee shop, according to him. I thought it might be you, but I was scared to ask you.”

“But you were brave enough to ask Sejun about me, I see,” concludes Subin with irony; Seungsik moans contritely. He begs Subin to change the topic before Seungsik dies of shame; Subin is merciful enough to inquire about his studies, and well, he seems really interested in the answer.

Late at night, Seungsik remembers it again: lying in bed and listening to the regular breathing of long-asleep Byungchan, he thinks. So was it Subin who had taken Byungchan’s girlfriend? Should Seungsik do something in this situation or would it be more correct not to intervene? What if Byungchan decides Seungsik betrayed him?

He turns on his side and buries his nose in the pillow. He understands that he really likes Subin, despite all his coldness and sarcasm, and even if the one who stole Byungchan’s girl is really him, Seungsik is still not ready to refuse communicating with him. He likes Subin: he is kind, considerate, responsible, and fearless; at least, that’s how Seungsik finds him.

However, not without reason. Subin memorises Seungsik’s schedule and makes a refreshing tea for him in advance when Seungsik goes to the bus stop; he also sometimes saves snacks for him. Subin is interesting and amusing; Seungsik’s day officially gets better if he manages to visit the friendly barista for at least a couple of minutes. Subin inspires Seungsik when the last one is worried about his studies, and his words help the elder to cheer up. Seungsik tries to take care of him too, but Subin only snorts in response, “I’m not a kid, hyung, leave it.” Seungsik can’t restrain his sigh of frustration, but there’s delicate warmth in his chest blooming when Subin as if by chance calls him hyung.

“I need some coffee, or I will die,” Seungwoo says with a sepulchral voice when Seungsik meets him at the university gates in the early foggy morning. “Come on, we still have time before lessons.”

“Wouldn’t it be better if I go to hold our seats?” Today is Sejun’s shift, and he is unlikely to show the courtesy of pretending he doesn’t know Seungsik.

“I don’t want to stand outside alone in this weather,” Seungwoo grumbles, stubbornly grabbing his friend by the elbow and leading him away from the campus; Seungsik mentally says goodbye to his quiet life.

“Who do I see?” Sejun smiles broadly as they get closer. “Seungwoo-hyung! And our Subin’s friend! Seungsik, right? So you’re studying together?”

“Something I don’t know?” wonders Seungwoo, looking from one to the other and back.

“I can ask you the same question,” answers Seungsik sullenly.

“Seungwoo-hyung buys coffee here almost every day, so of course, Subin and I have remembered him,” Sejun easily explains as he gets up to make the drink. “Can I do something for you, too, Siki?”

“You’ve done enough,” he mutters resentfully, hiding his hands in the pockets of his coat.

Later during the class, Seungsik has to whisper the whole story of his acquaintance with Subin and Sejun to Seungwoo: the elder played the role of a deeply offended best friend and refused to talk because Seungsik didn’t tell him all the details at once. With some difficulty Seungsik manages to earn Seungwoo’s forgiveness, and the last one has a change of heart.

“And what are you going to do now?” he asks during their lunch break, passively picking with chopsticks at his dry rice.

“With what?” Seungsik notices the disappointment on Seungwoo’s face and pushes his salad towards him.

“With Subin,” Seungwoo enthusiastically steals a portion. “I think the kid got a thing for you. He gives his food to you, cares about you…”

“I care about you, too,” counters Seungsik.

“Are we dating?” Seungwoo raises his head; Seungsik stares at him without blinking. “A pity,” sighs Seungwoo, and Seungsik silently tries to kick his laughing friend under the table. “Actually, Subin is quite cute.”

“I don’t hear you,” Seungsik says loudly, trying to drown him out.

“I think you are a good match,” Seungwoo continues, not even hiding a wide smile. “Do you want me to ask for his phone number?”

“I don’t know you, leave me, stranger,” Seungsik answers even louder, deliberately not glancing up at his friend.

Autumn comes out cloudy and rainy: for several days in a row water pours from the sky without stopping, the streets are flooded with kilometer-long puddles, and cars are practically floating on the roads. Seungsik doesn’t leave the dorm without an umbrella; fortunately, these days fall to Sejun’s shifts, and Seungsik passes by the coffee shop with a clear conscience, refusing to respond to the loud calls and friendly waves from the barista. At the end of the week, Subin shows up for work; after another extra class, Seungsik trudges wearily to the bus stop in the rain, and only the thought of the upcoming weekend keeps his mortal body alive.

“You look bad,” Subin says, seeing him. “Coffee, maybe? I can mix it with tea or orange juice for you.”

“No, thanks. I’m going to fall asleep as soon as I get home,” yawns Seungsik almost dropping the umbrella. Subin shakes his head disapprovingly, gives a look around, and noticing no one, rises from his seat. A small noise is followed by the click of the lock, and the side door for the staff opens.

“Come in, but quickly,” Subin calls. Seungsik hesitates, but Subin clicks with his tongue, and there’s nothing left to do but fold the umbrella and meekly dive into the narrow and warm space. Subin closes the door behind him; they are standing close, and Seungsik can literally feel the heat of Subin’s body. He also feels the strong smell of coffee. “You can sit on the milk boxes,” Subin says, returning to his desk by the window. “I’ll tell you when your bus arrives and let you out.”

“Um, is it okay? That I am here?” asks Seungsik uncertain.

“As long as you stay quiet and don’t touch anything, I think everything is fine,” Subin shrugs and smiles a little. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

“It’s cosy,” Seungsik finally decides to get down on the indicated boxes.

“Would you say the same if Sejun were here instead of me?”

“I don’t think so,” chuckles Seungsik; Subin smirks understandingly and gets distracted by the approaching customer.

Seungsik finds it interesting to watch the process of making coffee: how Subin tamps ground coffee, how skillfully and deftly his moves are, how he remembers all the recipes by heart, how gently he treats the machine. Doing his work, Subin looks... fascinating (Seungsik stubbornly dismisses inappropriate epithets from his mind). Despite the weather, many people come to have coffee; in a short period of rest, Subin prepares jasmine tea for his guest, and Seungsik happily enjoys the delicate floral aroma. A small sound box is attached to the ceiling of the tiny room; barely audible, merging with the noise of the rain outside the window the calm, soothing jazz plays, what is typical for coffee shops, and Seungsik, sheltered from the dampness outside, gradually relaxes. He presses his temple to the dark wall; music, tea, warmth — Seungsik closes his eyes for just a minute and doesn’t notice how he falls into a pleasant doze. The noise of the coffee grinder and the voices from the street don’t disturb him: all sounds are muffled here, seem natural, and don’t annoy. Although, most likely Seungsik is just really tired. He dreams that he got on the bus, drove to the dorm and went to bed; someone comes to cover him up, apparently Byungchan, but Seungsik catches the strong smell of coffee from his hands, winces and opens his eyes a little. Byungchan knows about his dislike of this drink, so he never brings it into their room.

Subin freezes, noticing Seungsik awakening; he straightens up in confusion, and his sports jacket he used to cover Seungsik up almost slips to the floor — Seungsik, half asleep, catches it and reflexively holds it close to his stomach.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you,” Subin sounds guilty; Seungsik hastily brushes it off, but pauses to rub his eyes and hide another yawn behind his palm.

“It’s all right. I’m the one who should apologize: I fell asleep at your work... How long have I been asleep?”

“Not much. Half an hour, maybe longer,” Subin returns to his place, takes a sticker informing customers about the short technical break, attaches it to the window, and lowers the wide roller blinds. “You can sleep as long as you want, until closing time,” Subin adds, smiling briefly as he pulls his container of food out of his backpack. “I’m going to have dinner; are you with me?”

“Thank you, I’m not hungry,” Seungsik feels the blood rushing to his cheeks. Subin glares at him in disbelief.

“As I said, you’re a bad liar,” he snorts, opening the container. “You probably ate yesterday morning, am I right? Hey, you should take more care of yourself. Skipping meals is bad for your health. You’re already thin enough, I can cut myself on your cheekbones.”

“Of the two of us, you are cute, not me,” Seungsik grins, hugging Subin’s jacket tighter. “So you are the one who should eat well.”

“Are you flirting with me?” Subin raises his eyebrow; Seungsik smiles timidly.

“Maybe.”

Subin chews a piece of his dinner in silence, staring at him; on reflection, he moves closer, sitting down opposite.

“All right, then,” he picks up with his chopsticks a portion of food and brings it to Seungsik’s lips, “open your mouth.”

“You know this is _very_ embarrassing, don’t you?” he groans, but gives up and accepts the treat; Subin squints contentedly.

“That’s exactly why I’m doing this. Don’t worry, we’re the only ones here, and nobody will know about it,” he says, bringing to Seungsik a new portion. “Next time, I’ll take chopsticks for you.”

“No need,” anxiously babbles Seungsik. “You already do a lot for me…”

“I like taking care of you,” Subin admits simply, shrugging his shoulders and munching his dinner in a melancholy manner. Seungsik desperately tries not to turn red.

“But it doesn’t feel right… Rather, I should be taking care of you…”

“Then, do it,” Subin grins. “You can, for example, cook something. I’ll be here all weekend.”

“Your directness is discouraging,” Seungsik sighs.

“I know,” the younger smiles, “but you said it yourself that I’m cute. Accept the consequences.”

They slowly eat the modest dinner, sharing it between them; Subin makes himself a cup of coffee, and Seungsik suddenly asks for it too. “I would like to know how _you_ make it,” he says defensively. Subin decides to give him another one, not as bitter as he drinks; Seungsik sips carefully and savors the taste on his tongue.

“It’s soft,” he says after a long pause. Subin pretends he doesn’t care and even rolls his eyes scornfully.

“Oh, and also add that I make it in a special way, and the main ingredient is love,” he replies with theatrical indifference. Seungsik pouts resentfully.

“I would have said it if you hadn’t done it first,” he grumbles, while Subin lifts the blinds and removes the break sign from the window; a second later, they both notice Seungsik’s bus arriving at the stop. Subin turns around, asking if the older one will run to catch it; Seungsik shakes his head, wrapping his fingers around the cup of coffee more tightly.

He’ll get enough sleep later.

Seungsik expects a barrage of questions from his roommate when he returns to the dorm almost at night, but the room meets him with an unfriendly darkness and emptiness. He intends to wait for Byungchan to find out where he was, but accidentally falls asleep when resting on the bed.

He gets up early to take over the kitchen; Byungchan finds him an hour later in the middle of cooking and looks childishly happy, thinking that for the first time in six months Seungsik has decided to cook something for the two of them as he often did before, and Seungsik has no choice but to smile and promise to give his roommate a portion. Someone is brewing coffee in the cezve next to him; Seungsik suddenly realizes that the smell is now closely associated with Subin and doesn’t seem as unpleasant as before, although it still remains annoying.

Byungchan amiably shares the container when Seungsik lies that he wants to keep a part of dish for himself; during the day, he carefully escapes from the dorm, feeling like the last thief and a horrible friend, but when Seungsik meets contented with the shown attention Subin, he concludes it is worth it.

The container is returned to him a day later by Sejun, who smiles so widely that the dimples on his cheeks threaten to turn into Mariana Trenches; inside the box, Seungsik finds a note, «to Siki, from Subsub, with love» — but he doesn’t know Sejun’s or Subin’s handwriting and finds it tactless to ask, so he hides the note among his important files, staying tormented by uncertainty about the true author of the message.

The sun suddenly comes out one day; before his extra classes Seungsik takes a stroll through the park located near the university and heads to the coffee shop, intending to have a cup of tea even if made by Sejun. He is really surprised when he reaches his destination and sees Byungchan there. Seungsik wants to execute a tactical retreat, but Sejun, damn him, acts faster:

“Who do I see? Subin, they’ve come to you!”

Seungsik shifts his gaze from bewildered Byungchan to joyful and bright Sejun and Subin, looking out of the window.

“Hyung?” dare to voice Byungchan; Seungsik sighs theatrically, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“Sejun, why do you always make me feel awkward in front of my friends?”

“You’re welcome,” he says carelessly. “Can I do something for you?”

“Yes, drink some poison,” answers Subin instead of Seungsik, demonstratively trying to push the older one out from his seat — in the end, Sejun places him on his lap, hugging Subin tightly around his waist. Seungsik tells himself that he’s not the least bit jealous. “So do you know Sejun’s boyfriend?” Subin asks.

“ _«Boyfriend»_?” Seungsik repeats incredulously, being sure he must have misheard. Byungchan shyly hides his face in his hands, while Subin struggles and beats Sejun with his elbow in the ribs.

“Seungsik, let me introduce my boyfriend Byungchan,” Sejun announces, still holding on to fighting Subin.

“You _must_ hear the story of their acquaintance, it’s a whole anecdote,” the younger interjects without distracting himself from the playful battle.

“Yeah, I know,” Seungsik accusingly looks at Byungchan. “He’s also my roommate.”

“Really?” everything freezes in the coffee shop for a moment; nevertheless, Sejun takes advantage of the situation and tries to bite the opponent’s neck, getting a straw in the forehead for this. Seungsik doesn’t care — at least, he tells himself that.

“So you know that Sejun-hyung stole his girlfriend to start dating him?” Subin clarifies.

“And when were you going to tell me?” Seungsik folds his hands; Byungchan smiles bashfully.

“Right after you telling me you know, uh, my boyfriend?”

“Oh, honey, you’ve never called me that before,” Sejun coos. Subin glances at him in disgust, resolutely tears out of his hug, and opens the door.

“Nasty. I can’t stay here a minute longer,” he grumbles, stepping outside to the accompaniment of perky laughter, grabbing Seungsik’s arm and leading him away. “Come on, while they control themselves,” he says intentionally loudly.

“Look who’s talking!” responds Sejun; Subin snorts, and Seungsik doesn’t try to hide a chuckle.

“Isn’t it your day off?” he asks. A slight disappointment fills his chest when Subin lets go of Seungsik’s hand and hides his own in the pocket of his jacket. It is unusual to see him not at work: Seungsik notices that Subin is slightly shorter, but he finds it cute. He leads him towards the park, and Subin follows him calmly.

“It is, but my sisters decided to make Cleaning Day, so I ran away,” he explains willingly. “And finally the weather is quite good. I rarely go outside because of my job. By the way, do I distract you?” he suddenly says.

“On the contrary, I was going to walk before the classes,” Seungsik hurries to reassure him. “I’m happy to have your company,” he smiles. “I must admit, all this time I was sure you were the one who stole my friend’s girlfriend.”

“Well, as you can see, it wasn’t me,” Subin shrugs. “Speaking of which, I’m not that type.”

“What do you mean?” can’t understand Seungsik; Subin rolls his eyes.

“I mean, I’ve lived with three sisters and my mother since I was born, so I’ve had enough of female company,” he meets Seungsik’s eyes. Time stops for a moment, as does Seungsik’s heart — Subin looks away, and Seungsik mumbles thoughtfully.

They wander slowly through the autumn colorful park; Subin begins to collect the largest and most beautiful leaves, intending to present them to his sisters, and Seungsik readily helps with the search. The sunlight falls gently on the trees and the grass; the frosty, winter-smelling wind ruffles his hair, making him look like a furry cat. Time flies by quickly; Seungsik takes a few pictures of the younger at his request, trying to capture the frame as best as possible (although, in his humble opinion, Subin is handsome from any angle), when he suddenly notices that he missed the start of his classes. Subin runs with him to the building and says goodbye standing at the door, smiling warmly, and wishing him luck; Hanse stares askance at late and strangely happy Seungsik, but still lets him copy his notes and doesn’t ask anything.

A completely wild idea creeps into Seungsik’s mind and, to not give himself the opportunity to retreat, that same night he opens the dialogue with Seungwoo.

s_sikisiki: Do you still have your coffee and whiskey left?

w_o_o_y_a: yes?

s_sikisiki: Bring it back tomorrow. I’ll need it.

w_o_o_y_a: ??

s_sikisiki: And pour some more whiskey in there.

w_o_o_y_a: okay???

Knowing well that he needs only a little to ~~get drunk~~ gain confidence in himself, in the early morning, under the careful and silent attention of Seungwoo, Seungsik has enough to hold over until late in the evening, because the day promises to be long. The lessons pass quickly; during the extra sessions, Seungsik talks unusually much, which makes their teacher very pleased, but Hanse squints suspiciously and hisses quietly, “have you been _drinking_?!”

Before going to Subin, Seungsik visits a flower shop; he can’t even guess which flowers the younger likes, so he tries to choose something gentle and low-maintenance. His heart pounds loudly; he exhales and almost confidently — because his legs are shaking too much — walks towards the coffee shop. The sky is dark; soft lights shine over the street and on the university in the distance, and the chill wind gently embraces gradually losing his determination Seungsik. By the time he reaches the place, the thought to give up and run away like a coward pulsates in his mind, but he only tightens his fist and forces a smile as he approaches the coffee shop.

“You’re later than usual today,” Subin takes off his earphones as he notices the flowers. “What is it?”

“Well, if I’m lucky I have a date tonight. Do you mind if I wait with you?” Seungsik’s voice surprisingly is under control. Subin freezes, and the confusion on his face is clearly visible.

“Oh. No, it’s okay. Congratulations?” he mutters, and Seungsik shrugs. There is an embarrassment in the air; Subin lifts his heavy glance up to Seungsik’s elegance figure and then notices the flowers again. “Well, let me put them in the water, or something. I think you can come in.”

He lets Seungsik inside; together they find a large enough and convenient receptacle to pour some water for the small bouquet. Subin looks tired and depressed; Seungsik feels awful. He starts to think that this idea was too bad, but shakes his head in irritation and forbids himself to give up. He _must_ try.

Subin stares at the flowers as his eyes meet Seungsik’s, and he smiles sadly. “Good luck,” he tries to sound cheerful, but it doesn’t work out; fortunately, the customers distract him from the awkward silence.

The evening passes calmly and melancholy: smooth peaceful music plays in the room, perfectly combined with the night world outside the windows. Neither Subin nor Seungsik say a word: each is lost in his own thoughts, although the younger one still shares his dinner with Seungsik and makes for him hot tea with invigorating notes of citrus and mint. Soon, Subin starts filling the protocols; Seungsik shamelessly admires his beautiful profile, the way Subin pouts while remembering the amount of materials spent during the day. Seungsik thinks that he really would like to spend more time with him like this — not at work, but in tranquility and cosiness. Here, in this cramped coffee shop they seem to be fenced off from the outside world: Seungsik forgets about his studies and the worries associated with it; his heart warms from just watching at Subin. He does like to listen to his voice and see his smile. He sincerely hopes that he can also give Subin something like this. He will make everything for that.

“I’m afraid I have to close up,” Subin says quietly, looking at the time.

“Can I help you?”

“Thank you, but there’s nothing to help with,” he stretches, and his grace reminds of a cat. Subin rubs his neck and begins to clean up the workplace. It doesn’t take long: soon he asks Seungsik to leave the room, gives him the flowers, and after a couple of minutes goes out after him, putting his jacket on and picking up his backpack. The lock clicks; Subin checks the door and turns around. Standing on the step, he seems to be taller than Seungsik. The night lights delicately illuminate his features, his neat nose, his chiseled cheekbones.

“Well,” Subin looks away, “have a good date, I guess?”

“It will be a good one if you agree,” Seungsik’s hands are shaking terribly with excitement, and he hopes that it is not so noticeable in the dark.

”What?” Subin keeps standing motionless.

”It’s for you,” Seungsik gives him the long-suffering flowers, and Subin takes them in confusion, staring at him with wide eyes. “I’m sorry I don’t know which ones you like… But I promise I’ll bring your favourite ones next time. Will you agree to go on a date with me?” Seungsik smiles, trying to hide a big embarrassment that threatens to cover him over his head. Subin continues to gaze, neither moving nor making a sound. It’s impossible to read anything on his face; Seungsik takes the prolonged silence as a bad sign. Swallowing the bitter disappointment stuck in his throat, he prepares to apologize, mentally scolding himself for the rashness.

Subin lays his hand on Seungsik’s shoulder; leans forward, closes his eyes, and presses his lips on Seungsik’s.

Perhaps, this can be considered as an agreement.

**Author's Note:**

> The plot with Sejun and Byungchan was taken from Me&7Men show, episode 8!  
> And I didn’t forget about Chan ㅠㅠ he is in this story but on the background, you can’t see him but he’s there!!
> 
> If you love SubSik as much as I do, please read [this amasing work](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27986313) from Rainbugi!!
> 
> Anyway, I’m a talkative person so if you have smth to say feel free to leave a comment! Thanks for your attention~


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